


Moonlight in Sicily

by TrickyJerseyGirl



Series: How to Make a Family [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fellatio, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Smut, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Gabriel Sings, Gabriel is romantic, Gabriel is sentimental, Oral Sex, SMUTTY SMUT, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8825143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyJerseyGirl/pseuds/TrickyJerseyGirl
Summary: After Gabriel ports Castiel back to the bunker, he and Tia are left to their own devices. They have each other, a plush two-person chaise, the clear night sky and a full moon over the Sicilian coast. Whatever shall they do?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Friends! This is a het SMUT fic; feel free to skip it if thats not your bag; if it is, then please enjoy.
> 
> I wrote this fic to fit into the series, but it can kinda stand on its town. If you haent read any of our related fics, I'm sure you will still be able to figure out whats going on.

The second Castiel was gone, Tia reached into Gabriel’s robe pocket. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but it’s to the left,” he smiled.

She pulled out his phone and quickly dialed. “Hey darlin, yes, it’s me and yes, your Angel is drunk as a frat boy at homecoming...Sicily….of course it was my Archangel...oh, you know I will. And he is very, very sorry.” She gave Gabriel a pointed look, then looked at the antipasti and waved her hand in a demanding gesture. Gabriel snapped his fingers and she continued, “That bag that just appeared? That’s an apology gift for you and Sam...Yes, make sure you hide those bottles good…I will… what? He’s what? He’s wearing what?” She covered her own mouth to stifle a laugh, but it wasn’t quite quick enough. “Now why would I be laughing… oh. Oh, my. Well, blue is your color...neon blue? Oh that ain’t right at all...yes, I will. Bon chance, honey. Bisous to you and Sam.”

Tia ended the call and stared hard at Gabriel, who affected an innocent, slightly insulted expression. “Quelle?” he asked.

“Your baby brother showed up drunk, in his robe and a speedo. Hot pink, I’m told.”

He grinned. “Oh, I would have loved to see the look on Dean-o’s face.”

She gave his shoulder a slap. “You are a bad influence, Gabriel.”

“On Cassie? Definitely, but he needs it,” he said. “On you? Mmmmaybe. It’s debatable. Which reminds me. You are overdressed.” He snapped his fingers. Tia’s robe was considerably less fluffy than the archangel’s own, but just as luxurious. Burgundy silk clung and draped in all the right places, and Gabriel ran his hand along one of her partially-bared thighs. The table and chairs were gone, replaced by a large, plush lounge that was plenty big enough for two.

“Who says I need influencing?” she asked, letting out a satisfied little hum as he stroked her skin.

“Good point,” he said, moving her hair from her neck. “Maybe you’re the bad influence.” He pressed his lips to her skin, kissing his way slowly down to her shoulder.

“I don’t know about that,” she said. “Though I admit I am having all kinds of bad thoughts right about now. Are we going inside?”

“And lose this view? Hell, no.” He had moved the robe off both her shoulders and was exploring all the newly-exposed skin with his mouth. Then he moved to her ear and whispered, “Ever made love with an archangel under a full Sicilian moon?”

She turned her body to face him and kissed his wine-flavored lips, running her tongue along the bottom one and getting rewarded with a soft groan for her troubles. “I do believe it’s on my bucket list.”

He undid the tie on his own robe, then hers. “Glad I can help you scratch it off.”

She shrugged off the robe and threw it to the side. “I do love a helpful man.”

Gabriel tossed away his own robe and ran his hands down her sides. He let out a low whistle. “Moonlight becomes you, gorgeous.” He nuzzled her neck and began singing in his best Bing Crosby imitation, “Moonlight becomes you, I'm thrilled at the sight, and I could get so romantic tonight.”

“And if I say I love you, I want you to know it's not just because there's moonlight, although, moonlight becomes you so,” she sang back before pulling his head up to kiss him again.

He pulled her close, continuing to run his hands all over her body. “I really, really like being able to have you naked whenever I want it,” he said. “I was trying to figure out how to get you naked the first moment I saw you.” He remembered that night well. It was in a bar in New Orleans, and he’d spotted her as soon as she’d walked in the door, wrapped in an expensive black dress and standing tall and confident in her high heels. He didn’t know she was a hunter when he asked if he could buy her a drink -- just that she was gorgeous and instantly fascinating, and he was determined to get to know her any way he could. She’d turned him down and walked away, and fifteen minutes later, he’d followed her outside and helped her kill an incubus. Five hours after that, he’d kissed her outside her front door and started counting the moments until he saw her again.

“Took you three dates to get me that way,” she reminded him.

“True,” he said. “You were the one who said good things come to those who wait. And then you tortured me until I finally had no choice but to give in to your wanton ways.”

“You did a little torturing of your own, as I recall,” she said, slowly trailing her fingernails down his chest and over his stomach. “What I don’t recall is you fighting my wanton ways very much.”

“Or at all?” he asked. He breathed in deeply as her hand continued its downward journey. “Didn’t then. Not going to now, either.” “Good.”

She kissed her way down his chest slowly, using her mouth on sensitive spots he was thrilled she remembered were there. He was moaning in anticipation well before she reached her ultimate destination, and there was a quiver in his voice when he spoke. “It’s never a good idea to argue with a determined woman,” he said. “Learned that lesson a lo…” He lost his words at the first touch of her mouth. English ones, anyway. Because once she found her rhythm and started using her hands as well as her amazing mouth, he burst out with a string of colorful exclamations. He felt her laugh, which was -- it had to be said -- quite an incredible sensation.

She stopped what she was doing to him long enough to ask, “What that Enochian?”

“Yes,” he said. “It happens. You know that. Please don’t stop.”

She bit him, high on the inside of his thigh. “So polite. Let’s see what we can do about that.”

As it turned out, what she could do about that was this short of miraculous and, as an archangel, he knew from miraculous. He endured it for as long as he could, for as long as he thought he could control himself against the ministrations of her tongue and her lips and the warmth and the suction. He almost didn’t make it and he almost didn’t care, but then he grabbed her arm to stop her before it was too late. “It’s not that I wasn’t enjoying myself, because oh my Dad, I really, really was,” he said, “but one of the problems with a human vessel is physical limitations and need for recovery time. Now, it’s true that there have been times when I’ve decided to just be a selfish prick and let you keep going, but this is not one of those times. No guarantees about later, though.”

She slid back up his body. “I love it when you get all selfless.”

He flipped her onto her back, then reached a hand into her hair as he kissed her. “What can I say?” he said breathlessly. “I’m a giver. And right now, I’d really like to give it to you. Repeatedly.”

“Then don’t let me stop you.”

“Okay, good.” He started making his way down -- neck, breasts, stomach, hips. He could have lingered for hours at each spot, and he knew it was frustrating her when he didn’t, but he had a definite destination in mind. He slid off the end of the lounge and knelt on the tile, her thighs on his shoulders. He looked up at her. “And I promise that I will get right to that, in a minute. Or ten.” Then he buried his face between her legs.

He licked and sucked without thought or precision at first, so lost was he in her taste. After a few minutes, though, he slowed his pace and began working his lips and tongue in all the ways she liked best. She groaned and spread her legs wider; he used the opportunity to slide a finger inside her, crooking it and rubbing exactly the right spot. She gasped and sat partially up so she could reach into his hair and grab hard. This time he laughed against her, and stopped to look up at her again. “You really don’t have to hold me in place, Gigi.” He used a second finger and started pumping them in and out. “I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

“Shut up and keep going.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He slid his tongue up through her folds, loving every sound she was making. He latched his mouth onto her clit and sucked hard, then started flicking his tongue quickly, at the same speed as his moving hand. He felt her thighs tense, felt the hand still his his hair grip a little tighter. He pressed his fingers in deep, wrapped his mouth around her again and hummed. He wanted her to come. She obliged him in seconds.

He found he didn’t have the patience to make his way up the lounge again, so instead he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her roughly to the edge of it. He straightened up, still on his knees, and moved her legs to his waist, then pushed himself inside her. She kissed him so hard, he tasted blood, though whether it was his or hers, he had no idea. Nor did he care. All he cared about was they way they were moving and the sounds she was making and especially, especially the way she kept kissing him like she couldn’t get enough. “Beautiful,” he said against her mouth. “So fucking beautiful. Everything about you.”

“Gabriel.” She held him so close and tight it was on the edge of painful. He slowed his pace, wanting to feel her, wanting her to feel him. Her head fell back. “Oh, god, yes.”

“Stay with me, babe,” he said. “Just a little longer.” He put his hand on the back of her head and pushed gently until she was looking right at him. She leaned in to kiss him again but he shook his head. “No. Look at me, Gigi.”

She smiled. “The way you say that, like you’re not about to make my eyes roll back in my head.”

He smiled back -- not his usual grin, but something deeper, something honest and open. A smile he reserved only for her. “Try.”

She nodded. And she managed it for a while, until she bit her own lip and let out a sound that was half a cry. “Please,” she whispered.

“Yes.” He pressed in as deep as he could. The expression on her face, the pulse of her around him, her skin against his own. He let out his breath in a hiss, then a deep groan as he came with her.

They leaned their foreheads together as they both waited for breathing to return to something akin to normal. Upright was proving problematic, but he really didn’t want to lose the press of her skin. So he snapped his fingers, moving them inside and into a soft, luxurious bed. He kissed her and slowly began detangling their bodies.

She tightened her grip on him. “Don’t.”

“Getting painful, Geeg.” He kissed her again. “Not going anywhere. Just shifting position.” He managed to pull out without pulling away, a trick he’d mastered specifically because he loved the feel of their limbs all twisted together. “Glad you’re here?” he asked, as he nuzzled her face.

“Yes.” She rested her fingertips on his face. “Thank you for bringing me. Even though it was because you didn’t want to remember a shopping list.”

“Hey, it was also because I happen to like having you around,” he said. “But yes, fine, also because I know you’d just keep adding things and adding things and it would just be easier to snap you here so you could do it yourself.”

She snuggled against his chest. “So market tomorrow, then?”

“Sure,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “After more of this and a late breakfast with prosecco. Maybe a dip in the ocean.”

She chuckled. “And then more of this and probably not making it to the market at all?”

He kissed her forehead and smiled widely, utterly happy with where he was and who with. “Maybe. Go to sleep. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Blood oranges for breakfast,” she murmured drowsily. “For the prosecco.”

“Anything for you, Geeg.”

“And a pony. Maybe a dinosaur.”

He chuckled again. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

_Hours later, she woke up to the smell of fresh oranges being juiced and a strange weight in the bed. She opened her eyes and almost immediately began laughing. On either side of her was a life-sized stuffed animal -- a brown Shetland pony on her right and a bright purple Tyrannosaurus on her left. It was good to be in love with an archangel. It really was._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I would love your comments, concerns, polite critiques, Kudos, what ever you're willing to spare. I also take requests but alas het only. Also comments are like air to me, especially since OFC het gets so little love. Please don't make me suffocate to death and help a sister out. You are awesome. Thank you again.


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